


Lady Sansa's Diary;  kisses in the meadow

by Fanfic_Addicted



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Diary/Journal, F/M, First Kiss, Romantic Fluff, Sansa-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 01:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12469992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfic_Addicted/pseuds/Fanfic_Addicted
Summary: An excerpt from Lady Sansa's diary where she recalls and reflects on her first romantic/erotic encounter whilst out riding in the flower meadow.





	Lady Sansa's Diary;  kisses in the meadow

**Author's Note:**

> I am enormously grateful to sassyeggs74, mynameisnoneya1991 and diabolicalnerd for their feedback and pointers.
> 
> Written as a Sansan piece, but I've deliberately kept her suitor nameless and their description vague as it's her diary (fear of discovery). As such feel free to apply whatever ship and head canons you wish. The same for ages.
> 
> Mix of book and show canon and the many, many, many excellent fanfics that I have devoured. 
> 
> This is my first ever attempt at writing so I hope I got the tagging right. I would love your feedback :)
> 
> At present it's a stand alone piece, but I never say never. If there's interest then I might consider expanding on it.
> 
> I own nothing. This was written purely for my own enjoyment and hopefully yours too.

*******

Today we went riding in the south meadow. It was so romantic, so perfect.  I wish to commit every detail to paper so as to never lose this most treasured of memories, something to cherish until the end of my days.  That I may keep this delightful, warm secret to fall back upon and give me succour in the winter of my years, when my youth and passion have withered and my memories are all that remain to sustain me.   

Just recalling the sheer bliss of today makes me sigh with longing.  It was as if all the Seven Heavens had aligned to bless us with a brief glimpse of their glory.  Bright rays of the early evening sun had turned the vista a burnt golden hue, softening the edges of everything and giving it an ethereal feel.  A warm breeze rustled through my hair, teasing a few tendrils from my braids to tickle about my ears and cheeks.  Each gentle waft brought with it the scent of blooming wildflowers which swayed before us like a brightly patterned Myrish rug.  Poppies, Corncockles, Cornflowers, Cow Parsley, Daisies, Lady’s Bedstraw and tall feathery grasses that surpassed even brightest and richest of jewels in beauty.  The air was filled with the trilling of songbirds and the distant whispering of the leaves in the Godswood. I hardly dared breathe lest I break the spell in which we were suspended.   

The horses were plodding their way along the worn track that would loop us back alongside the Godswood and return us to the great yard and stables.  As we turned about, it brought him full into my view and I could not help but admire him.  By the Seven, he is magnificent! He has the look of the North.  So strong, so masterful and manly.  He sat atop his steed like the Gods themselves carved him out of marble.  I know that a Lady should not look upon a fully grown man, that it isn’t seemly and poor dear Septa Mordane would be most displeased in my wanton display, but I simply could not rend my eyes away.  

I drank in his hair blowing in the breeze, his thick neck, broad shoulders, straight back and powerful thighs… oh his thighs! How they strained the fabric of his breeches as he flexed them to control his horse’s movements.  I longed to reach out and run my hands up and down their length, to firmly squeeze the muscle there and rake my nails like a cat against a tree. I had to squeeze my reins tightly to stop my impulses lest I act most improper.  

Taking a steadying breath, I lifted my gaze and took in his wide chest and strong arms. Oh, I so ached to press my face into his chest and feel myself enveloped in his muscular arms.  I wanted to breathe in his scent, inhale it so deeply that I could taste him.  I wanted to lick his skin, taste the salt of his sweat and feel the scuff of his stubble under my tongue. Seven save me, the thoughts that entered my head!  Even now I can feel my cheeks burning with heat as I recall those most improper and salacious thoughts.

Quickly I had to look away before I was caught in my shame.  I could feel how my breath caught and trembled every time I dared a look in his direction.  I was so aware of him it was as if the world had shrunk to a fraction of its size and there was just him and me.  My breasts were pushing against the laces of my stay as I breathed more deeply and suddenly it was as if there wasn’t enough air to breathe.  It was too hot.  My riding gown and underdress were too thick for the warm evening and I desperately wanted to strip down, shed my layers and allow the breeze to cool me.  I almost giggled.  What would he think?  Would it shock him, arouse him - proper Lady Sansa stripping right in the middle of the wildflower meadow, standing before him in naught but a thin cotton shift.

I allowed myself to grab that thread and unravel the yarn into a hundred  questions, all clamouring at once in my mind. I had to bite down hard on my lip at the onslaught of imagery they provoked.

What _would_ he think of me?  Does he see me as a woman grown?  Does he desire me as a man desires a woman?  I imagined him gently pressing his lips to mine, tasting me. Would he want to kiss me?  What would he taste like?  Sour wine I suspected.  Would he want to look on my curves, run his fingertips across the swell of my breasts? Trace his palms up my thighs, lifting my shift as he goes. Deep in daydreams I imagined each thought in full, glorious detail.

Trying to stop my wanton thoughts, I shook my head as if to physically dislodge them.  It was then that I realised I must have missed something as he was looking at me expectantly.  I gaped at him like a stupid little girl, frantically trying to recall what he had said.  But his eyes, they captivated me.  It was as if I had been struck by lightning, so piercing, so beautiful were they… I could spend a lifetime lost in those eyes.  Like a fool I sat there open mouthed and silent.

“Are you well?” he asked with a frown.  Oh Gods, his voice.  I swear it does things to me.  I _know_ it does things to me.  I wondered how it would sound whispering against the shell of my ear.  My nipples hardened and brushed against the soft cotton of my shift. It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck me.  I drew in a sharp breath, surprised by the intense sensation.  They were so sensitive, almost painfully so.  Each breath caused them to brush against the soft cotton of my shift and I felt a corresponding throb deep in my woman’s place.  It was as if my being was pulsing and writhing and I shifted awkwardly in the saddle.  It was too much and I gasped, loudly.  

His furrowed brow deepened and I couldn’t move.  I was too hot. I couldn’t breathe.  My body was burning and trembling and was constricted too tightly.  I needed air and coolness and freedom.  My head started to buzz loudly as if a swarm of bees were at work inside my skull.  Suddenly everything slanted and I realised, too late, that I was swooning in the saddle.  As the world swam and darkened about me, I yanked desperately on the reins to try and steady myself.  Instead I only managed to spook the horse, causing it to veer sharply.  I lost my balance as I fell into blackness.

When I came to my brow was wet and I saw the discarded drinking flask at my side.  I looked up to be met with those intense eyes staring down upon me with concern.  With a sharp intake of breath I realised that he had my head cushioned upon his thigh. Oh Gods!  It was firm and I could smell the scent of leather and horse.  Gently he brushed my dishevelled hair from my eyes, lingering to twist a curl around his finger.  Cold water droplets trickled down my cheek and dripped off my chin onto my throat and chest.  His eyes intently tracked their movement.  His pupils grew large, darkening his eyes, giving them a hungry look.  Only when the droplet had disappeared into the lace at the top of my gown did he lift his eyes back to mine.  I do not know how long we gazed at each other like that but it felt like both an eternity and a heartbeat.

He studied my face, his gaze switching between my lips and eyes.  Everything around me stopped, I dared not even breathe as anticipation ripened like a fruit in the summer sun.  I desperately wanted to taste those lips, to feel them against my skin.  Gooseprickles had risen along my too skin, contrasting with the tell-tale prickle of heat spreading across my face and chest.  He emitted a low grunt and bit down on his lip.

“So beautiful,” he said.  My pulse raced, my heart beating so hard it was as if it were trying to beat right out of my chest.  I swear by all the Gods, Old and New, the way he looked at me just then... it was as if he could see right into my mind, read my innermost thoughts and secret desires.  Especially the carnal, lustful images, that for all of my trying I could not keep at bay.  

In an effort to compose myself I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and tried to ignore the overpowering scent of man.  Then I remembered.  His thigh! Oh Gods, I was on his thigh! Sitting, I began to apologise for my absurd display, but before I could say a word he leaned in and pressed his lips upon mine.  

All of my senses were overwhelmed at once.  Closing my eyes I absorbed his smell, his taste, the feel of his lips moving tentatively, gently against mine.  A moan crept unbidden out of my mouth as I melted beneath him.  His kiss grew firmer, almost hungry.  He ran his tongue along my lower lip.  I gasped and opened my mouth to him, his tongue eagerly entering and dancing with mine own.  He tasted of wine and apples and never have I tasted anything so sweet.  Shyly I tried to imitate his movements, causing him to groan deeply as his hands knotted into the hair at the nape of my neck.  

At that moment I felt at kin with those swaying blooms in the meadow.  As if I too were powerless, being buffeted and carried by a force of nature far greater than myself. Yet I also felt a contradictory sense of liberation and empowerment. Like buds opening in springtime I was blossoming into my full splendour and I was relishing and revelling in my ardour. I _wanted_ to display myself, bare myself body and soul.

He must have sensed my wantonness as his kiss grew fierce in need and heat, his tongue plundering my mouth, drinking my very essence. Rough groans rumbled up from his throat as his kisses travelled down my neck and across my collarbone.  His hot breath ghosted in the hollow of my throat as he paused for a moment.

“So perfect,” he whispered before his hot tongue flicked out and licked a hot, wet path downwards for his teeth and lips to follow.

I was being driven mad by yearning.  I have never wanted anything so much as I did right then... to feel him press me down into the meadow and lay his weight upon me.  I felt sure that I would burst out of my skin with need.  An incredible, joyous tumult of sensations and emotions had overtaken me, warming my veins like hot, spiced wine on a frosty morning.  

My head lolled back and I arched my back, opening my throat and chest to him, begging for his caress.  My nipples were stiff and pointy, desperate for his touch.  They must have been visible through my gown, I knew.  I saw his feral stare and I willed him to unlace my bodice, to slide his hands inside and ease my ache.

“Do you ache for my touch girl?  Want my hands to fondle those delicious teats of yours?”

I felt a surge of wetness at my woman’s place and I was only capable of a weak, breathy moan in response.  My whole body was trembling, vibrating with something that I didn’t understand.  Like a thunderclap it struck me.  Desire! Arousal!  Newfound and burgeoning and exhilarating.   _Now_ I understand why Ladies are counselled against this most base of sins.  It is like a drug.  I have had but a tiny taste and yet I am desperate to seek more.  

Abruptly he pulled away and lifted me to my feet.  Disappointment settled in me so deeply I wanted to weep.

That was when I became aware of the sound of a horse approaching.  A squire, sent by my Lady Mother to call us for evening meal. Relief that he had been able to react dawned upon me.  Had we been caught in such a compromising manner, my parents would unleash the wrath of all the Seven Hells upon us. I smiled at him and lowered my lashes bashfully, willing him to understand both my gratitude for his preserving my modesty and regret at our interruption.

Strong hands circled my waist as he easily lifted me back up into the saddle.  Heat blazed through my bodice and seared into my skin as they lingered just a fraction too long, his thumbs stroking just once over the jut of my hip.  His eyes held mine as he trailed his hand down the full length of my heavy skirts right to my riding boot.  It felt scandalous, even though I knew there was no way he could feel my leg fully through all those layers of fabric.  But he wanted to; I knew that with the sureness that I know mine own name.  Before he mounted he bent down, plucked a Cornflower and gently twisted it into my braid.  

“My Lady,” he nodded gallantly – and then, the rogue, proceeded to give me the most sinful leer.  My heart stopped for a beat and my breath caught.

“Thank you, my Lord,” I whispered.  He didn’t even chastise my courtesies, just smirked.

Once back in the stables before parting ways, he grabbed my hand and pulled me flush against him.

“When can we be alone again?” he whispered against my ear.

Gods!  His voice sounded even better than I had imagined, or mayhaps it were his words that caused my blood to pulse so.  We held each other’s gaze and I felt like a quivering rabbit caught in the sight of a wolf.  But, he was wrong if he thought my tremble was fear.  No, it was anticipation! I was a rabbit that wanted to be devoured.

I never replied but an unspoken promise hung heavy in the air.

Now I sit in the flickering light of my dwindling tallow candle, wax droplets pooling in the glazed dish.  I realise that, mayhaps, I do not wish to be the rabbit after all.  Or not _only_ the rabbit.  No, I feel a strength and rebellion rising up within my very core that I have never felt before.  I am the wolf. A Direwolf no less!  I can be brave like a wolf and perhaps it is time to hunt my prey.

********


End file.
